paranormal erotica

New from Lily Harlem TAKE ME a super-sexy shifter story to spook up your Halloween! Set in Ireland this paranormal tale will take you from the centre of Dublin and Temple Bar to the beautiful Wicklow Mountains. But watch out, there’s a cunning vampire about…

Back Cover Information

Megan’s weekend just took a dangerous, sexy turn…

What’s not to love about a girl’s weekend in Dublin? Megan Sanders loves being out on the town and out on the pull with her mates, but unfortunately, she’s attracted the attentions of a man with downright murderous intentions.

Seth Martin knows vampire Samuel Bennington is evil, and only his pack of elite wolf shifters can protect Megan. That is, if they can convince her that she needs their help.

Soon Megan finds herself caught up in a whirlwind of fear and lust. She’s being hunted for her blood, yes, but she’s also crazy about the guy who has sworn to protect her. But which man will win? Will her blood sate Bennington’s hunger, or will Seth remind her why it’s good to be alive, and give her pleasure beyond anything she’s known before?

Excerpt

She stared at him, then, “Abraham is a shifter, isn’t he?”

Seth was silent.

“The wolves here looking after me are all shifters. They can switch between being human and animal. Don’t try and tell me they’re not.”

“What do you know about shifters?” He pressed his knuckles against his biceps, the muscles bulging.

“Only what I’ve read in books. That they’re humans who can turn into animals, that they have special powers.”

“Special powers?”

She swallowed. This was getting more surreal by the hour. “Will you just tell me the truth?”

He said nothing.

“Seth.”

He clamped his lips together.

“Goddammit.” She stepped up to him. “Don’t you think I deserve the truth? I’m a sitting duck. There is nothing but a few doors and bolts between me and a supernatural murderer who is out to get me. I’m being pretty calm all things considered, but this…” She banged her fist on his shoulder. “Tell me the truth.”

He didn’t budge but shook his head slightly.

“Don’t do that. Don’t say no. Tell me.” She whacked him again, harder this time. Fear, anger, and frustration warred within her. Her sanity was slipping as was her ability to maintain a brave face. If Seth couldn’t be honest with her—the man who’d fucked her not long ago, who’d said he’d die for her, who she’d entrusted with her life— then what did she have left?

Tears sprang into her eyes, making them prickle. Her throat tightened and a sob bubbled up from her chest.

She banged him again, with both fists this time.

“Hey.” He grabbed her wrists.

She tried to pull free but it was to no avail. “Megan, calm down.”

His words had no effect. She had to get out of there. What the hell was going on? She was a prisoner.

“Megan, please, stop.” He trapped her wrists in just one of his hands and pulled her close so her head was beneath his chin. “Calm the hell down. This isn’t helping anything.” He tightened his free arm around her body.

“No, but…I need to know, I need you…to be honest…with me.” She screwed up her eyes. In spite of her frustration she sagged against him. “I might die. This is my life. I need to know what’s going on.”

“I know.” He leaned back a fraction.

She looked up at him as a tear escaped from her right eye, and trickled down her cheek.

“Can you handle the truth?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Can you keep a secret? An ancient secret that very few humans have ever been told?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

He pulled in a breath. “In that case, yes, Abraham is a shifter. The wolf you saw, that was him, in his other body.”

She nodded. A sense of relief washed through her. Far from being worried or scared, the knowledge was a comfort. It confirmed that she wasn’t going mad. Her imagination wasn’t running away with itself. She wasn’t adding up two and two and making five.

He stroked his hand over her hair. “How do you feel now I’ve told you?”

She nodded. “Better. Thank you for trusting me.”

“Well, that goes both ways. You’re trusting us, a lot.”

“I know, but I believe in you.” She paused. “And Nia, she’s a shifter too?”

“Yes.” A muscle flexed in his jaw. It was clear he wasn’t used to talking about theshifters. Megan looked into his dark eyes; his long lashes cast shadows on his cheeks and his messy black fringe hung forward.

“Are you a shifter?” she asked quietly.

His eyes narrowed a little. “What would you say if I was?”

“I’d say thank you for saving me, in the alley.”

He pulled in a breath, his nostrils flaring. “That was a close call.”

“It was.” She tugged her wrists to free them from his grasp.

He released her.

“And if you hadn’t been there…” She pressed her hands to his cheeks, his thick stubble tickling her palms. “I wouldn’t be standing here now. I’d be a murder victim.”

He kissed her, hard and quick. “Shh, don’t talk about that.”

“It’s hard not to think about it.”

“I don’t want you to. I want you to feel safe, to feel cared for when you’re with me.”

“I do.” She paused. “So, you are a shifter.”

“You know what?” His eyes narrowed.

“What?”

He paused, then, “I’m hungry, like really fucking hungry.”

“Wolf’s appetite, huh?” She raised her eyebrows.

“Yeah, something like that.” He grinned suddenly. “Come on, let’s make food. I’ve used up a lot of energy this evening.”

“Bedroom energy.” She stepped back and released him.

“Yeah, and I’d like some more bedroom action later if that’s okay with you.”

The Lakeland Witches Box Set Blitz and Giveaway by K D Grace (@kd_grace)

When the mist descends on the high fells of the English Lake District, danger lurks. Demons, witches, ghosts and more gravitate to the powerful Elemental Coven – some as friends and allies, some as deadly enemies. The battle in the mist is a battle for power and love and lust, but most of all, for Tara Stone and the Lakeland Witches, it’s a battle for survival.

At last the entire Lakeland Witches Saga is available in a box set. One giant chilling, sizzling, dark and lusty binge read available now for preorder with release set for 29 October. Make it your Halloween Treat.

Giveaway: To promote pre-orders for The Lakeland Witches Box Set, I’m giving away a $30/£20 Amazon gift voucher. Comment for a chance to win! Pre-order your copy of The Lakeland Witches Box Set for a chance to make the author VERY happy. J

Sex is magic for the Elemental Coven — powerful magic. But will it be enough to defeat the hate-driven demon determined to destroy them with the very magic of their own lust?

Body Temperature and Rising Book: 1 of the Lakeland Witches Series

American transplant to the Lake District, MARIE WARREN, didn’t know she could unleash demons and enflesh ghosts until a voyeuristic encounter on the fells ends in sex with the charming ghost, ANDERSON, and night visits from a demon. To help her cope with her embarrassing and dangerous new abilities, Anderson brings her to the ELEMENTALS, a coven of witches who practice rare sex magic that temporarily allows needy ghosts access to the pleasures of the flesh.

DEACON, the demon Marie has unleashed, holds an ancient grudge against TARA STONE, coven high priestess, and will stop at nothing to destroy all she holds dear. Marie and her landlord, the reluctant young farmer, TIM MERIWETHER, are at the top of his list. Marie and Tim must learn to wield coven magic and the numinous power of their lust to stop Deacon’s bloody rampage before the coven is torn apart and more innocent people die.

Riding the Ether: Book 2 of the Lakeland Witches Series

Cassandra Larkin keeps her ravenous and dangerous sexual appetite secret until she seduces Anderson in the mysterious void of the Ether. Anderson is the sexy, insatiable ghost who can give her exactly what she needs.

But sex is dangerous in a place like the Ether…

When the treacherous demon, Deacon, discovers the truth about the origin of Cassandra’s powerful lust, he plots to use her sex magic for revenge on Tara Stone and the Elemental Coven, who practice their own brand of sex magic.

Cassandra must embrace the lust and sexuality she fears and learn to use its power. Will she stand with Anderson, Tara, and the Elemental Coven against Deacon’s wrath or suffer the loss of friendship, magic and love?

Elemental Fire: Book 3 of the Lakeland Witches Series

Obsessed with revenge, KENNET LUCIAN makes a deal with a demon, a deal he comes to regret when he meets TARA STONE, head of the Elemental Coven, and a powerful witch with a desire for revenge at least as great as his. Even though the attraction between the two is magnetic and the lust combustive, Kennet must betray her to accomplish his goal, which is ultimately her goal as well; to put a final end to the demon, Deacon’s, reign of terror. But can Tara trust the man who has wormed his way into her heart and the heart of the Elemental Coven? Can she trust LUCIA, the demon with whom Kennet is allied, a demon with her own agenda. The path to Deacon’s destruction is far from clear, and the price that must be paid to be free of him forever may be too high, even for Tara Stone.

Demon Interrupted: Book 4 of the Lakeland Witches Series

What secrets does a man have that would cause him to chooses to live under a spell that magically erased his past? When that spell is broken Ferris Ryder must choose to remember all that he was, all that he has done and all that drove him to willingly forget. If he chooses not to remember, the consequences will be dire for himself and the Elemental Coven, who are now his family.

Is the mysterious Elaine, who both fears and desires Ferris, a ghost with a past all her own, or merely a figment of his fevered dreams as he struggles against time to remember the past he fears or destroy the very people for whom he chose to forget.

She raised one golden eyebrow and turned to face him. ‘I am not your friend, Kennet Birch, and even if I were, I hardly see how an alliance with you would help my cause.’

‘Of course you see. Together we can defeat him.’

She absently plucked a blood-red rose from a bush that climbed tenaciously on a stone wall, sniffed it and studied it as though she had never seen anything like it. ‘I fail to see how you could possibly be of help.’

‘I could give you flesh.’ The words were out before he could stop them, and his heart nearly exploded from his chest as she crushed the rose, raised an arm in a flourish that was almost like a flash of lightning, and they were once again back in the cave.

She stood close to him, so close that he could feel her breath coming fast and furious against his face. Her eyes were fire, her presence made him feel as though every fibre of himself were being shredded and being unmade even as he breathed. ‘You are beyond brazen, Kennet Birch, to offer such a thing, as if I would want to walk among humans again, as if I would want to take up residence in their weakness and need.’

‘But you do,’ he found the courage to whisper, not even loud enough for her to hear, and yet she heard. He was certain she heard the very movement of his blood in his veins. ‘You do want to take up residence in our weakness and our need. That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? And that’s the only way you’ll ever be on an equal footing with him.’

She studied him for what might have been ages, and he felt as though the pressure of her scrutiny would crush him.

‘I have never worn man flesh.’ She nodded down to his penis.

He blushed and surged and blushed again. His heart raced. ‘Does it make a difference?’

She shrugged, still studying his cock as though she’d never seen one before. ‘Not really. Flesh is flesh.’ On a whim, she reached out and stroked his erection, and he gasped as the touch of her shivered up his spine and blossomed bright inside his head.

She continued to touch him, but her eyes were now locked on his face, and he tried desperately not to thrust against her. ‘I am only touching your cock, Kennet Birch, and it is all you can do to keep from spilling your seed at my feet.’

‘That is the most sensitive part,’ he breathed. ‘Of a man, I mean.’

She moved closer and ran a splayed hand up over his ribs. And he did spill his seed with a desperate gasp as though he could never get enough oxygen again. And he was embarrassed and terrified and angry, and it was as though the whole range of emotions exploded in his head in an instant. Then she leaned in and brushed her lips against his, and for a split second the world flashed before his eyes more vivid, more perfect, more complete than he had ever seen it before. He knew things, he saw things, he felt things, things beyond him. And he would have dropped again to his knees, but he couldn’t, not held in her gaze as he was.

‘I have barely touched you and you are overwhelmed, Kennet Birch. Do you really think you can survive my possession of you?’

He forced himself to hold her gaze, trembling suddenly as though he were in the grip of some powerful illness. All of him ached, and he knew the real world was bleeding through. There was very little time. ‘I won’t survive if you don’t possess me. My coming to you has guaranteed that.’ He wrapped his arms around himself as the shakes became more violent. ‘You said it yourself, I have nothing to lose.’

‘And why would I want a sick and broken male body?’ She asked. Her eyes blazed in the dance of firelight that always seemed so close to her.

‘If you possess me, you can heal me,’ he said. ‘And anyway, if you possess me and I die – well, it really doesn’t matter at this point.’

For an eternal moment she studied him. She studied him until he looked away. His head was fuzzy, his body ached even in the dream world. He couldn’t hold on much longer.

She lifted his chin once again so that he met her gaze, and the shakes stopped. The pain went away. He felt his head clear.

‘If I do what you ask of me, even though you live, your life is forfeit. You know this?’

‘I know,’ he breathed. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘You say that now in your hour of need. But when that passes, when you are whole and stronger and healthier than you have ever dreamed possible, when your heart heals and you learn to love again, you will not be so anxious to let go of what is rightfully mine when the time comes.’

He suddenly felt more pain than he knew existed in the whole world, and none of it was physical. He inhaled breath that felt like shards of stone. ‘I’ll never know love again. I’ll never know life again, so there’s really nothing you can take from me that isn’t already long gone.’

Her gaze softened, and somehow he found that infinitely comforting. Then she moved closer and kissed him, slowly, languidly, as though they had all the time in the world, and his cock was hard again. She stepped back from him. One shrug and the robe of fire fell away, and the glow of her body flashed bright, then dimmed and steadied until he could see details, erect nipples atop high breasts, rounded hips, a golden splash of curls at the juncture of her thighs.

‘I am not like him,’ she said softly. ‘It gives me no pleasure to make those who dwell in the flesh my puppets. You will be, how is it you put it these days, you will be in the driver’s seat.’

She took him into her arms and kissed him hard, and when he feared he would disgrace himself again with his cock pressed up tight against the top of her belly, she pulled away. ‘However,’ she said. ‘If I grant your request, then I will possess you. All of you. You will belong to me, your life will be mine.’ Her gaze was painfully bright. ‘And if you earnestly wish to be rid of Deacon, then you will do as I say for as long as it takes us to accomplish our task, and it will take time. I know him. You do not. I’m his equal. You are not. And one more very important thing, Kennet Birch.’ She stroked his hair gently and whispered against his lips. ‘Never, never forget how badly I can hurt you if you defy me.’ Then she guided his hand down over her pubic curls. ‘If my terms are not acceptable to you, then you must return to your body and face your fate.’

Boldly, brazenly, he slid a finger down low and circled her clit, and her eyes fluttered. ‘If it weren’t acceptable to me, I wouldn’t be here,’ he answered.

She took his hand and guided him back to a chair that appeared from out of nowhere. It looked like a golden throne with no arms. What? Was he to petition her? He didn’t understand. But it was no throne at all. She pushed him down on it and stood before him caressing her breasts until her nipples were stiff and swollen. Then she raised one perfect leg and set her elegant Botticelli foot on his thigh, affording him a view of her wet and fiery depths. ‘I do not enter through your breath, Kennet Birch,’ she said. ‘As sex is your magic, so is it mine. You will go in through me, inside out. And your hunger for me will pull me into you when your libido surges brightest.’

And he was so hungry for her. She filled his head and his body with an aching want that even if he were not a practitioner of sex magic, he would understand was not mundane. And in his case, the fear that he would die if he didn’t have her here and now was a very real one. That he might die even if he did, that her possession might be too much for him – well, that was a risk he was more than willing to take.

‘Are you certain this is what you want, Kennet Birch?’ she asked him as she moved onto his lap, positioning herself, opening her sex with her fingers.

‘I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.’ Even as he said it, he realised how silly that sounded, since either way his life as he’d known it was over.

‘Very well, then.’ She settled to the point of contact, to the point at which he could just feel the head of his penis against the resistance of her opening. He reached for her breasts, and with the hand not busy between her legs, she cradled his head and drew him near so he could nurse. The electrical shock through his body caused him to jump and jerk, and at that very instant she settled onto him, sheathing him tightly, deeply, and he knew he was dying. This was the point of no return. It was as though the tight wet pull of her swallowed him whole. Then she cupped his chin and held his face again so he couldn’t look away from her shining eyes. Her voice was like warm honey, thick and sweet, and he felt the sound of it in his very marrow, in his very soul. ‘You are mine, Kennet Birch. No longer are you your own. I possess you, body, soul and life force. Even in name you are now mine, Kennet Lucian. You are mine until I have no further use for you, until I have used you up.’ She gripped him hard and he exploded inside her and the world blew apart into tiny particles and disappeared like flecks of dust in the darkness.

‘Bloody Hell! Dr Allen! Dr Allen! Get over here. Now!’

Kennet inhaled delicious, abundant air as though he’d just remembered how to breathe. Then he fought his way up from under an unruly sheet to sit up on the bed. A woman and a man in hospital scrubs stood on either side of him, holding him, and there was chaos and someone was yelling. It took him a second to register that it was him yelling over and over again, ‘Where the hell am I? Where the hell am I?’ And then the bright lights, the gurney with a body shrouded in a sheet next to him all came into focus. ‘Jesus! What the fuck am I doing in the morgue?’

The woman in scrubs standing next to him looked pale and her hands were unsteady. ‘Mr Birch,’ she said, doing her best to stay calm. ‘You were pronounced dead almost 15 minutes ago.’

***

About K D Grace/Grace Marshall

Voted ETO Best Erotic Author of 2014, and a proud member of The Brit Babes, K D Grace believes Freud was right. In the end, it really IS all about sex, well sex and love. And nobody’s happier about that than she is, otherwise, what would she write about?

When she’s not writing, K D is veg gardening. When she’s not gardening, she’s walking. She walks her stories, and she’s serious about it. She and her husband have walked Coast to Coast across England, along with several other long-distance routes. For her, inspiration is directly proportionate to how quickly she wears out a pair of walking boots. She also enjoys martial arts, reading, watching the birds and anything that gets her outdoors.

It is with great pleasure that I welcome Janine Ashbless back to my site today. Not only is Janine a brilliant writer, she is a friend, and all round lovely person.

Over to you Janine…

I Had a Dream – writing the Lovers’ Wheel Books

One night some decades ago, probably before I was even a writer, I had a dream so real and so emotionally powerful that I’ve never forgotten it. I dreamed that I was standing at the gates of a big old house somewhere in the English countryside. The grounds were so overgrown that the gates were almost choked shut with brambles and weeds, but when I scrambled through and made my way up the drive I found that the house was still occupied despite being decayed. In fact it was a retirement home, with old people sitting around in wheelchairs, dozing and playing chess. Then I realized that these old men were the disguised King Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table, who had retreated here to await in secret the last call to battle when England would need their heroes again.

That was it. That’s all I dreamed.

Years later, this became the seed for the Lovers’ Wheel quartet I’m currently writing for Ellora’s Cave.

Now I know roughly where the idea grew from. All my childhood I’d been reading stories from authors like Susan Cooper, Alan Garner, and Diana Wynne Jones, in which the nice cosy English countryside was a place where lurked gods and elves and Ancient Powers pretending to be human, just biding their time and perhaps waiting to be woken by plucky middle class school children on holiday. I LOVED those books! I wanted to write a wondrous story about a girl who discovers a hidden world of magical adventure, a girl who is marked for a special destiny, a girl whose choices decide the fate of the world.

Only I wanted to write the adult version, with really dirty sex and way more moral greyness.

So Lovers’ Wheel is about Liz, who goes to stay with her Great-aunt Moira at spooky old Enniswitrin House in Somerset, and finds that she’s been picked for the noble task of fucking each of the Twelve Months of the Year in turn, to keep the seasons turning. But being Chosen isn’t nearly as nice or as vanilla as she’s been lead to believe, especially as the Brothers start to lead her into the darker half of the year.

As for Arthur – yeah, he’s there too! Read Summer Seduction and Falling Deep to find out about him. And I promise that When Winter Comes and Joys of Spring will complete the cycle of the year in due course…

Blurb-Falling Deep

Book 2 of the Lovers’ Wheel series.

Liz is reeling with shock. She has just discovered that her Great-aunt Moira’s spooky old house is the last disguised remnant of mystical Avalon, and that Moira has been manipulating her into initiation as an immortal sorceress serving the old powers of nature.

Liz’s ordained role is to turn the Wheel of the Year through the seasons by having sex with each of the Twelve Months in turn. The Brothers of the Fall appear to be hot and handsome men, but they are far more daunting than their summer predecessors. Liz now faces three new avatars who are increasingly dominant and kinky. As the year turns inexorably toward the darkness, Liz must embrace the allure of total submission and give them complete control of her sexuality.

Happy Halloween!!!

October is the time of the year when the Ancient Gaels believed the fabric between the worlds of the living and the worlds of the dead thinned, and broke open, so that on Samhain- later known as All Hallows Eve, and then Halloween, evil spirits would be released into the world, spreading pestilence and plague.

To ward off these forces of evil, huge bonfires were lit, and people dressed up in frightening masks to scare the spirits away, and therefore keep themselves, their families and their harvests safe.

It was also thought at this time when, if an offering of some burning hay was held up to the heavens, then souls trapped in purgatory could be freed.

Okay- enough of the history lesson! I could go on, and on, and on about the history behind Halloween…But that’s not why you stopped by today! You came to see what I could offer to tease and perhaps even scare you!

I’m not known for writing paranormal stories, but hey- for you guys, I’ll do anything (well, almost!!)

So here’s a little taster from a special one off short story called Blinked…

Blinked

(copyright Kay Jaybee 2013)

Human minds are so unimaginative, so closed. There’s usually a soft blue glow surrounding them. Not this one.

The taste around him was sharper, it tingled against my skin, zesty with an edge of…what to call it? To say it felt sulphuric would suggest it was accompanied by an unpleasant odour, but that wasn’t the case. The aroma emanating from this human was irresistible, yet it was oddly metallic in its intensity, in its bitter tang, in its…

He turned and looked directly at me, cutting off my line of thought. I was startled by the piercing nature of his deep brown eyes, and began to wonder if he already knew, if he could tell what I was?

The hairs on the back of my neck bristled beneath my red ponytail. He really was something different. My green eyes narrowed, my heart-rate, always rapid, increased further, and I felt the familiar swell of my chest and a twitch at my crotch as I observed him watching me.

Mentally I admonished myself. There was no way he could possibly know.

The hum and buzz of the bar faded to a mere background annoyance. He should have come to me by now. Impatience rose in my throat. This was unsettlingly strange. My quarry usually comes to me as soon as my craving for them enters my psyche. It’s part of the power; an automatic response. I want them, so they want me; madly, insanely, and without a hint of uncertainty, for the desire was all. The desire IS all. Hunger, sex, success, power and control. Without them the blood I crave is simply a nice warm drink.

My senses constricted further, tuning out the other drinkers. Confusion edged uninvited into the corner of my brain. Conquest should be easy. Then the small part of me that remembered what it was like to be human, reminded me that sometimes the pursuit was as exciting as the capture. Yeah, right!

I went to him, my head held high, my pony tail swinging purposefully behind my back. His lack of instant obedience wasn’t my failure, it was his, and he would pay for such insolence.

Essential need had taken me over, and as my breasts pushed against the satin of my black bustler, and the thud behind my ribcage became louder, I stood only inches away from him. Then instinct took over, and I moved in for the kill. My eyes, blazing dangerous lust, met his without flinching, without wavering, without blinking.

He blinked. That was when I knew I’d won. That whatever strange game he thought he’d been playing, it was already over. He blinked, and I didn’t. He had a weakness I had long since cast off. Simple.

We didn’t speak. I just nodded and turned around, walking purposely towards the exit, my hips swaying, my tight leather mini-skirt revealing the tops of my stockings and the contours of my backside. I could already taste his drooling mouth as he picked up the bag that had sat at his feet, and followed me, finally my slave.

His mind had cleared of the haze that had first kept me away. All he thought now was of his need, the need to fuck. To fuck me.

I kept walking. I didn’t look back, I knew he was there. I could smell the chemically caustic edge of his presence, even if I couldn’t see him.

My flat, small and obsessively neat, was only a short walk from the bar. I unlocked the front door and pointed inside, watching as he followed the line of my finger with his eyes, before obeying the unspoken request and entering the dark hallway.

Locking the door behind me, I led him to the bedroom, and began to unbutton the studs that held my top together down my right hand side, enjoying the sight of his wide hungry eyes and his parted lips. Hell, he was virtually panting like a dog.

Dropping my bustler to the ground, I showed him I wore no underwear beneath, and that my tits were more than ready for his touch. He was clearly in need too. The bulge beneath his denims was all but breaking out on its own. I smiled, but did nothing about his growing discomfort, instead, I commanded him to remove his black t-shirt. My crotch gave a twitch of anticipation as he obeyed without question.

I admired the torso before me, the beautifully thick neck, its veins running blue, pulsing slightly just below the surface. I would visit that neck soon; linger over it, but not yet. I had learnt to be disciplined, that the wait for the kill was more fun than the moment itself. For once the second of victory came, it was soon over, and then the hunt would have to begin again.

Walking around my guest in a wide circle I nodded in approval. His head turned with me, his brown eyes never leaving my chest, his mouth watering. This was obedience.

Beneath his left shoulder blade there was a small tattoo. It was a black Celtic cross. I moved closer, and with a single blood red fingernail traced its outline. A sudden chill engulfed me, but that was all. I didn’t disappear in a puff of smoke. I wasn’t reduced to a pile of ash upon the floor. Religious symbols versus the vampire. The vampires won that battle years ago. We are simply too strong to be beaten that easily.

I felt his flesh quiver beneath my touch, but to his credit he didn’t move, although his breathing did quicken, and the gleam in his eyes said more about his requirements than any words could have expressed.

The air between us began to change as his aura altered. The sulphuric tang was evaporating and red hot chemical desire had taken its place. Still not quite what I’d have expected from the average human, but this guy was so together, literary pulsating sex; he was everything I wanted.

From nowhere, I heard my mother’s shrill voice from centuries ago, telling me not to play with my food. A disobedient child to the last, I began to do just that, and ran my tongue up and down his back in long languid strokes. As I savoured the salty sweat against my taste buds, my self-control began to wane, and I felt the yearning for blood creep up my spine, heightening my senses further, clouding my eyes so that they are but a black focused fog, taking in nothing but my victim and the overriding longings of my body.

I tore off his remaining clothes with a speed that was beyond mortal, clawing them so they lay in mere shreds upon the floor. At that moment his semi-hypnotised state broke, and with a hunger I would normally only associate with the un-dead, he returned my urgency with fervour. Peeling off my tight skirt and boots, a flick of his brown eyes showed brief pleasure at my lack of knickers, as I pushed him back onto the bed.

If he was surprised by my strength then he didn’t show it. His heavy masculine aroma, his lust, intoxicated me as I sat astride him, impaling myself to the hilt. Rocking back and forth, and sliding up and down in alternative motions, I revelled in the expression on his face. His eyes closed in concentration, as I snaked my right hand beneath us, and stuffed two sharp fingernails up his arse, making him yelp in surprise.

I tore off his remaining clothes with a speed that was beyond mortal, clawing them so they lay in mere shreds upon the floor. At that moment his semi-hypnotised state broke, and with a hunger I would normally only associate with the un-dead, he returned my urgency with fervour. Peeling off my tight skirt and boots, a flick of his brown eyes showed brief pleasure at my lack of knickers, as I pushed him back onto the bed.

If he was surprised by my strength then he didn’t show it. His heavy masculine aroma, his lust, intoxicated me as I sat astride him, impaling myself to the hilt. Rocking back and forth, and sliding up and down in alternative motions, I revelled in the expression on his face. His eyes closed in concentration, as I snaked my right hand beneath us, and stuffed two sharp fingernails up his arse, making him yelp in surprise…